Fate Created
by 6BlackHand9
Summary: This is the story of the Inquisitor instead of the Inquisition. Kristah Trevelyan, accused murderer turned divine hero, faces trials and battles that will push her to her limits in order to keep the world from destruction at the hands of a madman with a god complex. UPDATE: No more updates, working on same version but in Cullen's POV
1. Chapter 1: Awakening

Awakening

Lost. Forgotten. Surrounded by darkness.

 _What's… happening? Where am I…?_

Everything felt small, enclosed. My thoughts pooled together in a frantic attempt to understand what was happening. Were my eyes open? Everything was too dark to be sure. I tried to open my mouth, but my lips felt cemented shut. Panic bubbled within me. Where _am_ I? Why can't I move? Again and again, these questions rattled about my head, as if I could break them apart and find the answers within.

Surely… surely someone must be keeping me here. The very idea resurfaced terrifying memories, painful reminders of another life. That small, dusty room. The candle wax burned to the bottom of the wick. The dark, hopelessness that hung in the air. The inescapable chain I had felt, but was never really there. Or was it…?

 _Stop_. Following that train of thought would only drive me insane. There had to be something I could latch on to; something to still my jumbled thoughts as they swirled about aimlessly in my psyche. I was awake but not entirely. I was lingering in that brief moment of awake-ness just before slipping asleep. A sound, a touch, anything. I strained my murky mind to settle as I tried to intensify my other senses. Surely they would give me something to focus on.

Then I felt it. A wisp of a touch. It trembled at the edge of my senses, and I launched every bit of attention on it. Fighting the current of my sleeping cognizance, I grasped onto the new feeling. The longer I held onto it, the more it trembled, a soft sensation that now resembled a sort of tickling. What was it? A touch? A taste? There was no way to tell, but regardless I continued to force it into clarity. Again, it increased in intensity, and for a second, I could almost feel the tickling firsthand. If only I could reach out and make it real…

"Gruaaghhh!"

My voice was nearly unrecognizable, a mixture of a weak groan and a primal cry. The tickling had exploded into a burst of agony, and in a matter of seconds, I had broken through the deep waters of my unconsciousness. The jolt of pain came from my palm, but I could feel the stings of it lingering up in my shoulder and almost up to the back of my neck. Cold stone pressed against my back as I writhed, as well as the sting of metal pulling at my wrists. My eyes fluttered open and I instinctively raised my throbbing palm into my vision.

 _What in the Maker's name…?_

Magic. It was there, I could see it sparking in my palm like tiny bolts of lighting, but slower. In tandem with the pain fading away, the sparks slowed and dissipated, revealing the new marks in my palm. Like scars, but flat. Jagged lines of white flesh crawling outward from the very center of my palm. That… wasn't there before, right? Magic was nothing new to me, but I wasn't willing this. Was that possible? How strange it was to witness magic activating through me without my active will. Strange, and terrifying. I was frozen for a long second, staring at my palm like one of those foolish palm fortunetellers I'd seen one time. My lungs heaved in a breath, and I realized that I had stopped breathing for a good moment.

"Hey." The rough call of a young man trying to sound strong, that's what I heard, "You awake, then?" My head snapped toward him. The man couldn't have been older than 19, but they had dressed him like a regular soldier. His nose and ears glowed red from the cold. He was no Templar, just a boy playing dress up.

I couldn't answer. No words formed, my mouth refused to move outside of the loose slack it already had. I stared at him a breath longer, before my gaze wandered aimlessly about my cell. Yes, it was a cell. A quick look around without my brain all fogged up and the stone walls locked in by a thick metal grating were proof enough. The soldier-boy stepped away.

"Send word to the spymaster; she's awake." His words, albeit low, bounced around the walls and reached me.

A spymaster? Where in the hell was I? Footsteps echoed as one of the other guards hurried off. At last, my mind was beginning to work and my survival instincts kicked in. I pushed myself upright, feeling a soft groan escape through my nostrils. The air was so chill, fog billowed from my nose like a dragon. Again, I heard the rattling of chains. I felt them the entire time, but never really seemed to notice. I gave them a quick once over. Lyrium-infused shackles: a common tool used by Templars. A new chill ran down my spine, but not from the cold.

More puzzle pieces began to fall into place and dots began to connect. This was it, I had been caught. Years of fighting and hiding and scraping by and I finally got locked up, but how? Wasn't it more likely that they would have just killed me? I scoured my memories of the last few days.

Nothing… Again, I closed my eyes and I focused. I had been… not alone. I had friends. That much was true, but… but no faces came up. Figures erupted, vague ideas of locations surrounded them, but their faces were vacant. Just faceless, genderless blobs. I couldn't even clearly remember the last place I had been. Everything was so… _mixed up_.

My head jerked upwards and I honed in on a cracked stone crevice. The air felt stale, suffocating. Each breath only demanded another. I don't know where I was, or where I had been. I _must_ have hit my head. Some village militia must have finally got the jump on me and are keeping me here until some real Templars come by to take care of me. How much would they get for turning in a rogue mage? Despite the icy chill, sweat dripped down my temple. What would they do to me now? The numerous horror stories I'd heard were enough to flash rudimentary images of the idea.

As if in response, the young guard approached once more and unlocked my cell. I turned to him, pulling my limbs closer subconsciously. His eyes were hard, too hard for a person his age. He was my junior, but fear still laced about me, tightening my throat and turning my stomach. A single question managed to squeeze out of me.

"Where am I?"

The boy only raised his chin, "The spymaster will want to speak with you."


	2. Chapter 1: Answers

Answers

My knees hurt. The floor was like ice, my fingers already beginning to numb. What a pathetic sight I must have been. They forced me onto the center of the jail cells and sat me on the floor, leaving me like this for this so-called spymaster. It was then I realized I was the only one being kept here. There were four ancient jail cells set on each side of the pentagonal room, each one as bleak and empty as the rest of the room outside the cells. No windows to peek out of, just four metal cages and the creaky wooden door that led to who knows where.

A crew of guards had surrounded me as we waited, their blades unsheathed and pointed my way. Did they appreciate being kept waiting with me? The one to my right had trouble keeping his blade straight. Even then, it tipped downward as the man struggled to keep his arm in the air. Amazing. Amazing that they would think I could even attempt to try an escape. They treated me as if I had the strength to call upon a whirlwind of power. Funny, considering how this had been the most weak-willed I'd been since back in my Circle days. There was no point in trying to talk them down. I hoped they cursed the one who gave them the command to intimidate a broken down woman. With this thought, I remained kneeled on the floor with my shackled wrists on my legs and my head bowed. Let them kill me, but keep them wondering.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the halls, followed by harsh whispers. My head tilted upward just as the door swung open. Two women, one dressed to the hilt in heavy armor emblazoned with a golden sun with an eye at its center. The other woman remained shrouded in a dark cloak. Both looked to me with an unblinking stare. The atmosphere immediately shifted, making my palms sweat. The woman in the armor was the most concerning one. Her glare glinted dangerously, the short cut of her hair sharpening her already hard features. There was a wild dog back in one of the villages we had taken refuge in for a few nights. He only approached when we tossed him food, but always with a frightening look of anger before he took it out on the bones we tossed him. This woman was giving me a very similar look. She let her stare sit on me for a few seconds before glancing to the guards and giving them a nod. They backed off with that, sheathing their swords and loosening their statue-like position.

My mind raced, but it was going in circles. The insignia on her armor… I remembered something of it. I couldn't take my eyes off of it: an eye at the center of a blazing sun. It related to the Chantry – that much I knew for sure. Tranquils carried a similar mark, but the eye was not a part of that. Poor sods.

The armored woman kept her glare to me. She began to pace about, circling me like a hawk with slow, conscious steps. They looked at me as if I had kept them waiting. I was nothing more than a rude guest, but nothing about them jogged my memory. A new habit of mine, I supposed. Luckily, I had managed to keep calm so far, but I had been counting my breaths. 3 seconds in, 3 seconds out. Once the woman circled into my vision, she finally spoke:

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." Nevarran? Her words had the bluntness of the accent. Or that could have been the held-in fury that tainted her voice, "The Conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended is dead… except for you."

 _Conclave_. A single word ushered in a barrage of new memories, completing images that I had only just gotten the feeling for. The Divine. Fiona and a Templar Knight Commander, it was all happening at the Conclave. The mages and Templars were finally going to make an attempt at reconciling. Yes, it was all happening at the Conclave. As quickly as I felt clarity, once again confusion set in. No… no, no, no, there was no way everyone was…

The woman suddenly leaned close and snatched my palm with the mark, "Explain this." Her rough touch made me flinch harshly, but I looked down at her words. Even now, the mark warped with magic, casting a strange greenish, white glow and turning my hands ghostly white. Explain? How in the hell was I to explain when I had no idea what it was? I needed to tell her this, but again my words failed me.

"I-I… can't." I stammered foolishly. _I just woke up!_ I wanted to say. The woman scowled.

"What do you mean you can't?" she snarled.

"I don't know what that is… or how it got there –"

"You're lying!"

The woman towered over me and yanked my coat collar until our faces were inches apart. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught her metal gauntlet pulling back into a fist ready to fire. My eyes squeezed shut, bracing myself.

"Wait." The cloaked woman, who had been silently observing a few paces behind, had finally stepped in. I let my eyes creak open, the woman placing a soft hand on her partner's readied fist, "We need her, Cassandra."

Cassandra. Still nothing came to as I repeated the name, yet I must have done something to her. She cooled at her partners words and lowered her fist before releasing my coat with a rough push. I slumped back onto the floor, forcing my racing heart to slow. 3 seconds in, 3 seconds out. They needed me? What in the hell would they need me for? If they needed me so badly, why would they lock me up then? Again, more and more questions piled up. The Conclave… This was key, but…I just couldn't remember.

"…It's impossible… I… the Conclave…?" I breathed shakily. It was becoming more difficult to keep a steady grip of myself, and each realization only made that job harder. The Conclave was supposed to be the end, wasn't it? The end of all this running and hiding. So much death and pain, it was all supposed to lead up to this moment of realization that it wasn't worth it. But if the Conclave really was destroyed…Someone approached, drawing my eyes. It was the other woman this time, reading me intensely.

"Do you… remember what happened? How this began?" she asked gently. Orlesian, though her accent was less noticeable. She was the spymaster, I realized albeit rather carelessly. Without the anger and yelling, my voice had finally been able to come naturally. Yet my mind was still leagues behind, it seemed.

"How it began? No I–" My voice halted, new memories flushing in as I spoke.

 _Heavy breathing. Cries for help, but… not mine. Running, running, running… Rough terrain beneath my boots and dark skies. We had to reach it._ We?

"I…I remember running." I started, distant, "Things were chasing me, and then… a woman?" The last bit came to me suddenly. Yes, a woman. I was running and she was there. _Her hand held out to me, a sign of safety…_

"A woman?" The cloaked woman repeats, intrigued.

"She… reached out to me, and then…" I trailed off senselessly. The memories that had suddenly come to me now began to fade. What had felt so clear seconds before now shifted, leaving me even more confused than before. I sighed, shaking my head. Maker, please let me remember something.

Armor shuffled about and I turned my forlorn gaze up. This Cassandra woman had calmed almost completely after my answers. She turned to her partner with a shadowed look.

"Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift." She said solemnly. The cloaked woman, Leliana, nodded before regarding me once more and turned to leave. Cassandra returned her attention to me and leaned close to me. I tensed, but she only unlocked the mechanism that kept me to the floor. She was actually releasing me. I watched as she unhooked my lock, but she left my shackles on.

My mouth dried as a million questions tried to come out at once. They were listening now, it was my chance to finally get some answers. But in a heartbeat, I couldn't focus on just one. So instead, I opted for the most broad:

I gulped, "What… did happened?"

Her hands stilled briefly. With a rough hand, she helped me to my feet, giving me an almost hesitant look, "It… will be easier to show you." With that, she turned and opened the door out of this accursed jail room.

Our footsteps bounced around the walls of the long hallway we were in and it came to me that I had been the first one in a long time to actually be locked up down there. Stone walls and floors similar to the jail cells themselves made up this whole area, every corner carrying a generation's worth of dust. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling in endless strands, blowing listlessly as we passed them. Cassandra made one turn, opened another massive wooden door revealing a staircase. We made our way up and out of this lower floor and suddenly I was awash with natural light. The jail was directly beneath the village Chantry, very fitting for a mage. Yet, it was surprisingly empty. Not a priestess or Templar in sight. No one praying in the shadows. Cassandra slipped outside the already cracked doors and I followed behind slowly.

Everything struck me at once. The air was brittle and dry; you could freeze your tongue if you left it out too long. And Maker, it was bright. I didn't dare open my eyes for a good minute as I let the burning gradually subside. My eyes fluttered open, taking in anything that could make sense. Cassandra kept her eyes on me, waiting for my reaction. Directly above her head, in the not so far off distance, I saw it.

Something horrible, indeed, had happened. And that something sat in the sky before us. I couldn't make sense of what it was. It was as if a giant had punched a hole directly into the sky, leaving stormy grey clouds stuck in an endless whirlpool with a pitch black hole at its center. There was magic, and an ungodly amount of it. I felt it even from here, tickling across my skin and raising my hairs on its ends. Magic unlike any I had seen streamed out of the hole, pouring into the ground in an unbroken stream. Sounds like thunder rolled across the skies, but there was no lightning. I could barely take my eyes off it. It was there, I saw it, felt it, but it wasn't processing. It looked like every doomsday scripture from the Chantry come to life.

"We call it the Breach." Cassandra told me, joining me at my side, regarding the anomaly as well, "It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It's not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave." I blinked toward her. There was an explosion at the Conclave?

"An explosion can do that?" I asked, bewildered. An explosion and now a sky hole leading directly into the Fade? It must be connected to the Fade if demons really poured from it. Could this have been the work of a maleficar?

"This one did." She paused, "Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world." I shook my head in disbelief. What in the Maker's name could we do to act against _that_ thing?

A massive crack sounded across the sky and the so-called Breach flashed with warped bursts of light, similar to lightning. I barely registered it, however, because at the same moment, my palm once again exploded with pain, its own magical tendrils whipping about. Agony, worse than before, forced me to my knees as I struggled to think through the ringing in my ears and bone rattling pain. Cassandra leaned her face close to mine, kneeling beside me.

"Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads. And it _is_ killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time." Her words were urgent, not for my sake. In fact, more and more it sounded like she was just saying anything to get me to do what she wanted. I gritted my teeth.

"You say it may be the key – to doing what?" I gasped.

"Closing the Breach. Whether that's possible is something that we will discover shortly. It is our only chance, however." Cassandra paused ominously, "And yours."

I let out a sharp exhale, indignant, "And you still think I did this? To myself?" My sharp words didn't faze her. She kept her cooled stare on me, thoughtful.

"…Not intentionally, perhaps. Something clearly went wrong." She finally admitted. I let out a scoff. Thank the Maker, my agony and possible death could prove that I'm not completely responsible.

"And if I'm _not_ responsible?" I demanded.

"Someone is, and you are our only suspect." She straightened upwards, looking down at me, "You wish to prove your innocence? This is the only way."

I gave her long stare before dropping my gaze to my palm, now quiet after the last burst. I couldn't tell if I was frustrated at my situation or at how familiar this all felt. The day I was taken to the Circle, the day the Circles fell – will there ever be a time where I was not forced into a situation I wanted nothing to do with? I sighed curtly.

"So there's not really much of a choice, now is there." I answered bitterly. I felt Cassandra's cold stare and she suddenly hauled me to my feet.

"None of us have a choice. Let's go."


End file.
